


Phantom Touch

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Touch-Starved, Virgin Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The general’s throat felt hoarse, and yet he knew he would not call out – no help would come, no sound would escape the silent solitude of his chamber. He was alone with the apparition and he melted under its touch.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Kudos: 79





	Phantom Touch

The door slid closed behind him as Hux entered his quarters, lights flickering on as he approached the sink and mirror. Removing his gloves, the general lapped cold water onto his face, looking up at the haggard features which stared back at him. He was no longer the image of cold efficiency, loyalty and control – an indomitable force had long been working upon him, wearing him down to a husk.

He could no longer push back the thoughts which encroached upon his composed veneer, going about his work with a feigned complacence towards his own decline – only when he returned to his own chambers could he breathe the frustration which filled his heart like venom.

Day by day, he bit his tongue, he tolerated, ever-cautious of the dangers of allowing his temper or his desire to lead him, to compromise him – not after the mercy he had been granted on the night of Supreme Leader Snoke’s demise.

Hux could not forgive himself for that moment of indecision which had marked his fate – he ought to have fallen to his knees or killed his rival, the dark object of his enduring fascination, rather than to have allowed himself to become a traitor in plain sight; weak, pathetic and sycophantic. He had lost his delicate grasp upon Ren, lost him without banishing the painful obsession which the general’s pride and reserve could never allow to rise to the surface.

And yet, despite this, a part of him had sickeningly hoped that the man would sense the longing in his eyes. In the secret chambers of his heart, intermingling with jealousy and hatred, Hux believed that the powers which he wielded would allow him to perceive the subtle signs by which he showed a more than ordinary interest. As Hux felt himself increasingly powerless, his dependence grew like a cancer and he knew not how to stop it. Unrequited and unattainable, Kylo Ren cast a shadow upon him with which he could not cope.

Drying his face, Hux approached his bed. He removed his boots and laid down, overcome by a weight from which the morning would bring no relief. Ren knew that there was a spy amongst his subordinates – it was but a matter of time. The announcement replayed in Hux’s mind time and again. Even in light of his betrayal and impending death, a part of him wanted him to lift the veil and raise his contemptuous gaze to the executioner, or else to grovel in submissive adoration. Conditioned to submit and to control, his contrary instincts gave neither peace nor guidance as he ruminated upon the future.

Armitage felt weakness seeping into him, conscious of his own powerlessness. Ambition, anger or defiance no longer stirred him – there was but an aching loneliness which visited him that night after he had traced the familiar path of shame and regret. For years he felt as though he had been hiding behind a mask, more subtle and penetrating than that of the knight.

As he lay upon the bed, he felt a pressure engulf him, wrapping itself around his body, both frightening and soothing at once as invisible hands seemed to hold him down.

Hux felt himself pinned upon the mattress while his body endured strange caresses. Beneath the fabric of his uniform he felt a gentle touch along his thigh, a hand smoothing his hair, a warmth against his stomach, such that he shivered from the unwonted contact.

The general’s throat felt hoarse, and yet he knew he would not call out – no help would come, no sound would escape the silent solitude of his chamber. He was alone with the apparition and he melted under its touch.

He made no further struggle, unclenching his fists, his legs falling still. Closing his eyes, Hux allowed himself to savor what it felt like to be the object of tenderness, his touch-starved body curling upon the blanket, his breathing becoming labored. A soft half-stifled moan left his lips from the ministrations of unseen hands moving slowly between his thighs, awakening his arousal.

He did not know how long he lay there, writhing in pleasure and in fear, until at last his tired limbs trembled with a final ecstasy.

Hux buried his face against the pillow, as if an invisible eye regarded him from above, ashamed of his own satisfaction and illicit longing. As the phantom’s passion subsided, Hux became aware of the dampness of the fabric of his defiled uniform, his own disheveled figure, and wondered if it had all been a desperate and depraved dream which he himself had conjured, soothing the build up of stress within him – or else, a sign of a descent into madness, fantasy merging into reality.

No voice answered him from the darkness of the room, for like a dream, the caress which had held him in the final throes had vanished.

Hux closed his eyes, his fingers clutching the blanket as choking tears rolled down his face, giving him the second cathartic release which he had long denied himself.

He knew that the night would pass, leaving him with a sense of renewed emptiness and loss – as if a wound which he had struggled to close had been torn open by visions which filled him with false hopes, fueling unrequited passions, beckoning him through the darkness after Ren.

Again he felt a warmth surrounding him, returning to him – arching around his back, clutching his hand which curled close to his chest, its touch whispering the silent comfort with which his exhausted frame was lulled into the depths of sleep.


End file.
